Broken Mirror
by Pipsy
Summary: She didn't belong in this world; it's a truth Olivia is beginning to remember and a truth her alternate is beginning to forget. In the middle is  a man stronger than both of their wills... and two worlds that hang in the balance. Olivia/Peter/Fauxlivia
1. Blurred Lines

All standard author's notes and disclaimers apply (see profile.) 1st and 2nd chapter both written post _Olivia_, pre _The Box_.

**Title:**** Broken Mirror**

**Summary:** **She didn't belong in this world; it's a truth Olivia is beginning to remember and a truth her alternate is beginning to forget. In the middle is a man stronger than both of their wills... and two worlds that hang in the balance. Olivia/Peter/Fauxlivia**

He looks at her like he sees straight into her, like he's no fool to what she's thinking and what she's feeling, and she has the feeling that he's telling her she doesn't have to be so strong but he understands why she won't change her mind. How is it possible for a simple glance to say so much? Is it all in her mind? She wonders briefly if he knows the truth- that she isn't _his_ Olivia- or if unconsciously through the shared energy of their reality he senses that she doesn't belong here, like him. Is that even possible?

But he smiles and she tentatively dismisses the paranoid concerns. No, if he knew, he wouldn't be playing coy, of that she's sure. He'd demand to know where _his_ Olivia was and then move the heavens and earth to save her and bring her back home to him. Because he loves her, with a passion and devotion Dunham could never have imagined and it stirs jealousy within her. No; that's wrong. She can't get tangled up in her alter's life, can't get confused. But that smile makes her heart flutter and fear paralyzes her. In the back of her mind, a traitorous voice that she can't quiet repeats for what must be the hundredth time, _he's supposed to be mine_. She tries to correct that thought by telling herself she meant he's supposed to be on her side, be a part of her reality, and that he shouldn't be here having a love affair with another version of herself. The litany fails to convince her of the meaning of her thoughts, the warm weight in her chest not abating.

She looks away, focusing on the crime scene, and tries to clear her head as she crouches down. Of course, the crime scene isn't much of a distraction since she already knows more than she's supposed to about what happened here; it was part of the plan. Whatever was happening with her and the senator's son, however, wasn't part of the plan. Her self control was slipping, her barriers failing as he slipped around edges and cracks she'd never believed were there, and without those defenses she wasn't sure what to do to stop the invasion. He was getting closer. Too close. She was losing objectivity and it was becoming harder to view these people- this reality- as the bad guy. She'd already lost that perspective of Peter Bishop, if she'd ever held it at all. He was, after all, from her side and a victim of the machinations of this reality, now lost and confused and hurt, and he'd expressed to her more than once his understanding of the destruction Walter had unintentionally caused to her- to _their_- reality and his desire to somehow fix things for everyone.

No- no matter how she tried, she couldn't view Peter as an enemy and she'd given up trying. There was no point. But she couldn't let him get under her skin like he was starting to, couldn't let him confuse her. She knew what she was doing. It was important. More than important; it meant the lives of everyone in her world. She couldn't lose focus of that.

But, as Peter walked up next to her and her gaze flickered from the blood-covered concrete to his dark and haunted but so very compassionate eyes, she felt her conviction stall within her as she wondered the price? Because, if saving her world meant destroying this one, then it meant destroying Peter Bishop as well. And he wasn't the enemy.


	2. Memories or Madness

**Olivia**

There he was again- that face, that face that she knew so well without remembering that kept haunting her. Why? And who was he? She saw him at random times at random places- in front of a bakery, in her bathroom mirror, at the quarantine zones- but he never spoke or approached her. He only looked. Looked at her as if he was seeing straight into her. She'd called out to him, chased after him, and even reached out to touch him once, but to her horror he'd vanished the moment Charlie had come up behind her and stole her attention for a split second; when she'd turned back around, the man that haunted her was gone. And, to her horror, it became apparent only she could see him.

The Fringe division had been witness to many strange things and she knew unbelievable things were possible but the apparition of the young, handsome man with dark inviting eyes made her question her sanity. Was he really there? Was he a manifestation of her imagination, some kind of side affect from the concussion she'd sustained in the explosion? She wanted to believe he was real- she wasn't entirely sure why- but his presence was always accompanied by a wash of intense alien emotions, emotions that were at the same time... terrestrial. More terrestrial and true than anything she remembered. Any rational person would wish the apparition would disappear and never return but instead she kept hoping to see him, waiting for him, _looking_ for him, longing to see him again so she might understand, eagerness and impatience wearing at her. And she was growing desperate and more determined to make contact, needing to know how she knew him. Because she did.

She couldn't doubt that now.

And here he was once again, standing in her living room out of the blue, his hands buried in the pockets of his black wool pea-coat, the collar raised around his neck and his gaze fixed on her with unwavering intensity. It no longer surprised her to see him in such intimate and unexpected places, interrupting her corn-flake cereal dinner, and her heart leapt at the sight of the familiar stranger. She stepped towards him, afraid he would vanish again before she got the chance to talk to him, but it was suddenly an impossible challenge to sort or articulate her thoughts over the maelstrom of emotions that seeing him rose up. They made no sense and had no place in her life- and certainly not for the people she knew.

"Who are you?" she finally demanded, the question one of the few clear things in her mind.

The man remained silent, tilting his head slightly, and a faint bittersweet smile tugged the edges of his mouth almost indiscernibly, giving Olivia the feeling he was trying to tell her she already knew who he was.

Determining she wasn't going to get an answer, she tried again. "Why are you doing this?" she pleaded, unable to stand wondering any longer.

"I'm not doing anything, Sweetheart." the man replied readily, much to her shock. "This is all you."

Her shock contended with her confusion at his answer. "Me?"

The man sighed and shook his head gently, mournfully almost. "You don't belong here. Deep down, you know this isn't your life." he stated.

The words rang true but she denied them. "That's crazy. I know who I am." She remembered who she was, where she belonged...

"Do you?" the man countered. Then, unexpectedly, he stepped towards her so that little more than a foot separated them. "You crossed over for me, Liv, and I went back for you- to _be_ with you." he insisted, his voice a sultry whisper and his eyes- his piercing eyes- seeing into her.

Her heart pounded, the proximity to the familiar stranger teasing her, and all arguments fled her, although she hardly understood what he was saying. "Went back where?" she insisted, needing to know.

His hand rose and her breath caught as it ascended toward her cheek. He wasn't really there, so it wasn't possible... but how she longed for his touch, _needed_ it as she'd never needed any embrace before. Her heart was ready to break at the collapse of her delusion but, instead, his hand connected with her cheek and she gasped to feel the warmth of his fingers. Her eyes closed involuntarily and she leaned into the touch as he cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing her flesh tenderly.

She barely heard his whispered answer; "_Home."_

Suddenly afraid he was going to disappear again, she opened her eyes. To her relief she found him still standing there, so close to her, and looking at her with kindness and strength that made her feel safe. She didn't understand anything at the moment, but she knew what she wanted.

"Don't trust the senator." the man warned. "Whatever he tells you, he's just using you. He has his own agenda."

The caution brought back some clarity to Olivia and her eyes narrowed. "What agenda?"

The man shook his head, perhaps indicating he didn't have a clear answer. "His heart turned to stone and fire when I was stolen from him; now the only thing he feels is hate. He'll do anything to satisfy his need for revenge." he told her, but his vague explanation only left her with more questions.

"Why should I listen to you?" she asked, inexplicably wanting to believe him but knowing it would be foolish to blindly take this stranger's word for it.

His thumb brushed her cheek again and it took all her willpower not to surrender to the gentle caress. "I told you; this is all you." He leaned in and her heart thundered as this time she did close her eyes, anticipating, hoping, fearing what was about to happen as his face neared hers. She could feel his breath, his warmth, and in that moment she was totally convinced of his very real existence despite his self-admitted uncorporealness. His soft lips met hers and she hesitantly responded to the kiss, accepting it, returning it... _wanting it_.

This was dangerous! This was stupid! She had no reason to trust him, to believe him! She couldn't let herself get involved like this- tangled up and confused! She couldn't! But Olivia's harsh rebukes fell on deaf ears as fiery emotions consumed her and brought her in deeper to the kiss, intensifying it. When he parted from her, it was with a sense of loss and, fearing to look into his dark eyes lest the last of her control should be shattered, she kept her eyes closed, feeling his hand on her cheek acutely and leaning into it.

He was still very close to her, almost touching, and his breath warmed her face as she pictured his intense stare. "Trust yourself." he whispered. "_Sweetheart._"

The endearment brought a sudden wash of familiarity; a time when he'd called her that derisively before they'd come to really know each other- but that was crazy; she didn't know him _now_!- and her heart raced as something lost came back to her. She felt him pulling away from her and panic consumed her, her eyes flying open as she called out to him in desperation.

"_Peter!_"

But he was gone. Her gaze roamed the empty space of her apartment, searching for some sign. But nothing indicated he'd ever been there; nothing was out of place, nothing was missing. Outside it was quiet and undisturbed; inside, everything was still and silent, save for the round clock on the wall above her ticking away, steady and indifferent to the exchange that had just taken place. Or, at least that Olivia had imagined had taken place.

Her eyes fell on the mirror across from her and caught on the reflection, a picture of her and Charlie on a stand below in her periphery. A strange uncertainty gripped her and she doubted- for the first time- who was staring back?

**Yeah, so I wrote this before _The Threshold_ and, in light of that episode, this chapter is a little odd, but I decided not to change it anyway. I'm not sure if I'm going to go any further with this, although I originally intended to, because the Olivia/Peter/Fauxlivia storyline is progressing a lot quicker on the show than I expected (and not quite how I expected) but, we'll see...**

**Please review!**

**Oh, and if anyone happens to have a copy of any of my Stargate fics (particularly _The Mask of Merlin_) I would really appreciate them, as I deleted them all in a spaz moment. Again, thanks!**


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